


Fear Itself

by chloebeale



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 00:36:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chloebeale/pseuds/chloebeale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allison aids Lydia in dealing with her nightmares, helping her realize that fear isn’t weakness, but instead, a kind of strength.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fear Itself

The pounding in her skull refused to subside. Her eyes had grown bleary and any hope of concentration was demolished. Lydia didn’t hear the last bell as it rang out—the only indication that the school day had ended was the relentless tapping on her shoulder. Out of force of habit she snapped her head sideways, practically snarling at the incessant and irritating digit as well as the person it belonged to.

 

"What do you want, Stiles?" she growled, her teeth clenched along with her fists.

 

"Whoa, hey, I’m sorry," he apologized profusely, putting his hands in the air as the universal signal of surrender, "I was just trying to get your attention because the last bell rang and you seemed out of it. Did you not hear it?"

 

"What?" The redhead queried, raising a hand to her temple and emitting a low groan.

 

"The bell. School is over."

 

"Oh. Great. Thanks," Lydia murmured, sliding out of the chair gratefully.

 

"Are you okay?" Stiles followed her as she headed to her locker and she tried her best to ignore him.

 

Once she reached her locker, she haphazardly threw everything into her backpack and sauntered out the lobby door. Stiles was still hot on her heels. She was reminded of that fact when he so clumsily stepped on them, sending her forward and almost face first onto the pavement.

 

"Watch it, Stiles! I’m fine. I just have a headache and I have to go."

 

In truth, Lydia’s body was weak from lack of sleep. She’d been having nightmares every single night for the past week—nightmares so gruesome she slept for mere minutes before waking up drenched in sweat and screaming.

 

Her parents had offered to take her to a sleep specialist but she’d staunchly refused. Lydia Martin could get through anything—she’d been through much worse. The nightmares would stop eventually, she reasoned, and then she could catch up on the sleep that she’d missed.

 

Or so she hoped.

 

But the reality of the situation presented itself that evening, after an unfortunate amount of hours of homework and a stubborn attempt to doze. Things seemed perfectly normal. Lydia was in her nightgown and the room was dark. The exhaustion was unbearable and she fell into slumber quickly.

 

It wasn’t long before the ghastly apparitions appeared. Bodies upon bodies she saw; the bodies of strangers, of her family, of her friends.

 

When her eyes settled onto one of those rigid, pale structures she noticed the reddish orange curls, the curve of the mouth, the red lipstick, the Prada shoes. Lydia was looking at herself, her own dead body.

 

A moment later she was shrieking, soaking wet with her heart beating as if she’d just finished a marathon.

 

Frustrated and frightened, she groped for her phone on the side table. The device’s artificial light illuminated the room and it took a second for her eyes to adjust. Lydia used speed dial and called for reinforcements.

 

—

 

Allison Argent suddenly sprung up from beneath the covers. She was used to waking up abruptly, thanks to her dad’s agility training—sometimes he would burst in the room and demand for her to defend herself.

 

Her heart rate slowed when she realized it had been her phone that had interrupted her slumber. Immediately she thought it must be Scott. Something horrible must be happening and it was up to them to stop it.

 

But it was Lydia. Lydia? Why would Lydia call her at two in the morning, she wondered.

 

"Hey," she managed to sound somewhat alive when she answered.

 

"Hey, um, are you busy?" Allison could sense her friend’s discomfort by the tone in her voice.

 

She furrowed her brows, worried about what had caused Lydia’s upset.

 

"Not exactly, what’s up?"

 

"I’m really sorry to ask but I didn’t know who else to call. I mean, without sounding pathetic."

 

"Whatever you need, I’m here," the brunette promised. Lydia was her best friend, after all.

 

She heard a sigh of relief in her earpiece.

 

"I’m happy to hear you say that. I haven’t been…sleeping well. I’ve been having these nightmares, these really bad nightmares, and I can’t get any sleep. I’ve maybe slept an hour this week, and I’m so tired. I was trying to just deal with it but they aren’t going away and I have a really important final next week and I NEED to sleep."

 

Allison listened intently and then responded accordingly, curious as to what she was being asked to do.

 

"I understand. I’ve been there, but uh, what exactly do you need me to do for you?" she questioned with hesitance.

 

Lydia was pacing the room like she always did when she was nervous. Allison could hear her walking quickly around her bedroom, along with the rapid breaths indicative of stress and anxiety.

 

"I just need you here. Like in my bed. To protect me, comfort me, oh god, when I say it out loud it sounds so whiny. I just need someone, okay? I didn’t want to ask one of the boys, I don’t want them to think I need saving. The last thing I want to be is weak. I’m just so tired…"

 

"I’ll be there in a minute."

 

—

 

Lydia practically jumped out of her skin when she heard a crashing sound in the hallway. Cautiously she approached the bedroom door and opened it a crack.

 

The usually well-lit hall was dark. A second later, a figure came lumbering toward her. She drew in a breath, preparing herself for a monster come to kill her, again, when she saw her friend in the shadows.

 

"Allison!" she whispered, grabbing for her hands and pulling her inside, "how did you get in? The doors were locked, I thought you were a—"

 

"A what?"

 

"I don’t know, an evil alpha or a lizard person or a vampire! At least, I don’t know, knock next time?"

 

Allison smirked, “Sorry. I picked the lock, no big deal. Oh, but,” she gestured toward the hall, “sorry about the lamp. It sort of fell over.”

 

With her first laugh in days, the exhausted young woman dropped back down on the mattress. She explained that the lamp had belonged to her dad’s ex girlfriend anyway, and it had been really ugly anyway and she didn’t care because Allison was here and finally—finally she’d be able to get some rest.

 

The hunter protectively sat by Lydia’s bedside, watching as the other girl’s eyelids fluttered shut.

 

Her hand rested on the sharp knife slipped into the strap on her leg, just in case these nightmares manifested into something physical. Lydia hadn’t told her anything specific about the dreams and she wasn’t sure what to expect, so she figured better safe than dead.

 

Her gaze was trained on Lydia when she noticed that her body was moving—no, thrashing—and she was muttering under her breath.

 

"No, no, not her—please, not her, it can’t be…"

 

As Lydia’s movements got more erratic and her chest started to rise and fall quickly, Allison grew worried. She could sense Lydia’s intense fear within the dream, and she hurriedly reasoned out how to help.

 

Suddenly she remembered something Lydia had told her once and she propped herself onto the bed, pushing down Lydia’s thrashing limbs and bringing their mouths together.

 

Allison kissed her fervently, her fingers gripping Lydia’s hard, trying to restrain her body from lashing out against her nightmares. And then she felt Lydia’s lips move against hers, reciprocation, and she leaned back, smiling a little when her friend sat up in bed.

 

"What was that for?!" Lydia exclaimed, her eyes wide.

 

"You were moving a lot. Sounded like a pretty bad dream. So I woke you up."

 

"With your lips."

 

"Yeah, well, you taught me that one, remember? It gives you something else to concentrate on besides the fear and anxiety. Are you okay now?" Allison’s voice was steady, her hand atop of Lydia’s shaking counterpart.

 

Lydia nodded slowly. She leaned against the bed frame and sighed.

 

"Do you want me to do it again?"

 

The question caught Lydia off guard. Disbelief clouded her expression and she rolled her eyes mockingly.

 

"I think I’ll be okay, superhero lips. Thanks," she chuckled, "I’ve got to say, I never expected that coming from you."

 

"Why don’t you go back to sleep?"

 

"In a minute. But first, I wanted to ask you something…"

 

Allison couldn’t help but brace herself. Lydia could be really aggressive sometimes, and she had literally no idea what she was about to be asked. She raised her eyebrows in response, signaling she was ready to hear whatever it was Lydia had to say.

 

"Have you always been so strong? I mean, compared to you, I’m so weak. I’m surrounded by werewolves and werewolf hunters and…Stiles, and I can’t help but feel kind of like the princess who always needs saving, you know? I just wish I was strong, like you."

 

"You are strong. Lydia, you’re the strongest person I know." She shook her head. "No, I’m serious. There is no way I could’ve gone through what you did. Listen to me. You may not know how to shoot a bow or pick a lock or take a guy down with a few simple moves, but you’re strong. Amazon strong, okay? You can get through anything, you’ve got spirit and will. The other stuff is just that, stuff. It’s stuff you can learn. But you, Lydia, you’re strong _inside_.”

 

"Thanks, but it’s not enough. It’s not the kind of strength I want. I want to be able to not be afraid. I want to be able to protect myself."

 

Allison understood where she was coming from. She’d been there herself, once upon a time. Now she was confident that she could be okay.

 

But as for fear, she thought that was normal, especially given the crazy things they’d had to face, fear was the only way to react to monsters and death and dismemberment and apocalypses. Fear, she thought, was what made her strong.

 

"Being afraid isn’t what’s holding you back. Actually, it’s the opposite. You need to let go. Allow yourself to be afraid. And then fight back. It’s the survival instinct, that’s all it is, and you’re ignoring it. Fear is normal, Lydia. Fear is what makes you human. Fear itself makes you strong."

 

"That…makes a surprising amount of sense," Lydia finally said, looking down at her thumb, which was stroking the top of Alison’s hand, "I’m, uh, feeling kind of afraid right now, actually."

 

"Of what?"

 

"I’m afraid of what you’ll do if I kiss you again."

 

"Confront your fear."

 

"…what?"

 

"Do it. Kiss me."

 

Lydia wrapped her arms around Allison’s neck, pulling her closer. She could feel her silken curls glide across her fingertips. She leaned forward and closed her eyes.

 

She kissed Allison, and god, did her heart race. But in a good way this time because Allison was kissing her back and pushing her against the bed frame and she was warm and her muscular legs slid between hers and it felt like nothing would ever be the same again.

 

"So, was that so scary?" Allison asked when their lips finally parted minutes later.

 

The two of them were breathing raggedly, limbs still entangled and neither of them making a move away from the other.

 

"Yeah, it was. But the end result wasn’t so bad."

 

"That’s what I thought," the brunette agreed, "How about tomorrow we talk about some more of your fears, maybe do some self defense training?"

 

"Will you teach me how to shoot a bow?"

 

"I’ll teach you how to shoot a bow," Allison grinned.

 

—

 

Lydia slept much better that night with Allison by her side and she’d learned something, too. She could be afraid without being weak. Allison Argent thought she was strong. And for the first time, Lydia believed she was strong, too.

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in a long while, nor have I ever written for this fandom. I hope it came out decent.


End file.
